


your song's got me feeling like

by DivineProjectZero



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, First Time, Hook-Up, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 07:47:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11459169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DivineProjectZero/pseuds/DivineProjectZero
Summary: "Actually," the DJ says, "I watched you dance for a while."God, he just wants to have this man for one night.





	your song's got me feeling like

**Author's Note:**

> Self-betaed. All mistakes are mine. Constructive feedback is always welcome. 
> 
> An AU where everybody is in their mid-twenties and living in NYC. I have no idea what constitutes as 'good music' so please go easy on me for the random song choices in the fic. 
> 
> Title comes from Rita Ora's "Your Song."

Shamelessly Queer Up In Prospect, more widely known as SQUIP, is a popular LGBT nightclub at the northern edge of Prospect Heights. Jeremy’s never been there, mostly because he lives with Rich in Queens and he isn’t interested in going down to Brooklyn for clubbing. Jeremy’s not interested in clubbing in general.

But he’s going to SQUIP because Brooke begged him to come be her wingman because the sexiest woman she’s ever seen is a bartender there, and Jeremy owes Brooke a hundred favors. Plus, Christine has sworn up and down that SQUIP has some of the best music of all the gay scenes she’s been to. 

Well, if there’s ever a time to hit up a gay nightclub, it's right after the Brooklyn Pride Night Parade, when he’s still riding an adrenaline high and everybody’s drunk on the atmosphere and determination to be as queer as possible. 

Brooke and Rich have bullied him into his tightest pair of jeans and an equally tight blue teeshirt that apparently brings out the blue in his eyes or something. The three of them line up and enter SQUIP together a bit past 11PM. It’s busy, as expected for a Pride night, and Jeremy feels a little overwhelmed already. His anxiety’s mellowed out a fair bit over the years, and at twenty-four he’s learned to be comfortable in his skin most of the time, but he’s still not a fan of having so many strangers crowding his space. 

Rich, on the other hand, looks excited. Jeremy knows without a doubt that Rich is definitely going to be bringing someone back to their apartment tonight, because it’s what Rich does: bring random hot strangers home, hook up with them, and cook them breakfast before saying goodbye and never seeing them again (Jeremy’s had breakfast with _so_ many attractive strangers). 

Brooke, on the other hand, looks petrified as they start heading to the bar opposite the dance floor. She clutches Jeremy’s arm in a death grip. “Oh god, there she is.”

“Which one?” Jeremy asks. There are three bartenders spread out across the bar area, and two of them are discernibly women.

“Curly hair in the black tank top,” Brooke says in a single breath.

Jeremy squints as they slow their approach to the bar, heading to a nearby empty standing table to assess the situation. Rich makes an appreciative sound. “Nice.”

The bartender is definitely very pretty, with curly hair swept up in a bun and lips painted a classic blood red. She has eyes that could cut a man open. Brooke has good taste.

“Oh god, she’s so beautiful,” Brooke whimpers. “I’m so gay.”

Rich laughs. “Girl, go get her number and our drinks.”

“What if she’s not into girls?” Brooke hisses. 

“Why would she be working in a gay club if she’s not into girls?” Jeremy asks.

“She could be ace, like Christine!”

“Unlikely,” Rich says. “My bi-dar says she definitely swings that way.”

“I don’t even know if she’s single,” Brooke says. “Oh god, she’s definitely too beautiful to be single. I’m doomed. I need to go home and eat fro-yo to recover from this.”

“Slow down, we don’t know if she’s taken yet,” Jeremy says.

At that moment, a tall, boyishly handsome man with a blinding smile comes through the crowd, reaching over the bar to tap the hot bartender’s shoulder and pull her into a hug.

“Oh no, she has a boyfriend,” Brooke says in a crushed voice. “A good-looking boyfriend.”

“Uh, hugging doesn’t mean they’re dating,” Jeremy points out. “We hug all the time. They could be friends.”

“That’s different,” Brooke dismisses.

“Not really?”

Rich elbows Jeremy. “Go get us drinks and gossip. I want beer.”

“Bossy,” Jeremy complains, but he still complies. Rich bought the pre-parade drinks, so it’s only fair. He watches the hot bartender girl and the handsome dude talk as he approaches the bar. Both of them are unfairly hot. He hopes they’re just friends, because he doesn’t want to see Brooke’s crush be strangled to an early death. Sad Brooke is one of the most lethal things on the planet.

The person in front of him walks away with drinks, leaving the bar’s other female bartender to look at Jeremy with an expectant look. “You ordering?”

“Yeah, um.” Jeremy rattles off his order and watches her ring it up, trying to find an appropriate way to ask her about her colleague’s orientation and availability, when the bartender—Jenna, her nametag says—sizes him up in one cool glance.

“I saw you come in with Blondie and Red-streak. You dating either of em?”

“Uh.” Jeremy flounders. Brooke’s been here a few times but this is only Rich’s second time here, as far as he knows. Bartender Jenna must have a killer memory. “No, we’re just friends. I mean, Brooke and I were each other’s beards back in high school, but we’re both, um, very homosexual.”

Bartender Jenna quirks a smile at him as she pulls out two bottles of beer and starts pouring a gin and tonic. “So, all single?”

“Yeah.” Jeremy glances back at his friends, both watching the bartender and hopefully-friend like hawks. He looks back at Bartender Jenna. “Are you asking because you’re interested?”

“Not me,” she says, grinning. She gestures in the hot bartender’s direction with her chin. “Chloe’s been making eyes at your blonde friend for a while. She messed up a drink order when she saw you two walk in here together.”

Chloe must be the hot bartender. “Oh my god,” Jeremy says, mirroring Bartender Jenna’s grin. “Brooke’s been talking about her for _weeks_. She thought that dude,” he says, tipping his head to indicate Bartender Chloe’s companion, “was _her_ boyfriend.”

Jenna cackles. “Jake? No, they’re best friends. That’s it. And if you’re interested,” she says with a sly smile, “he’s single too.”

Jeremy chances another look at Handsome Friend Jake. He’s really good-looking. To the point where it’s a little intimidating, to be honest. Jeremy’s always preferred guys who aren’t so traditional Hollywood handsome. “Thanks, I’ll think about it,” he says instead with a laugh. He pays Jenna and tips her nicely for the info, and carries the drinks back to where Rich and Brooke are both giving him gossip-hungry looks.

“Your bartender crush’s name is Chloe,” he tells Brooke, purposefully keeping the most important part for last. “The hot guy,” who just left the bar and headed back to the dance floor, “is named Jake.” Brooke motions at him to hurry up and give up the good stuff. “And they’re both single,” he says, grinning as Brooke lights up with a small squeal.

She gives a furtive glance at her crush, who’s busily wiping down her counter. Bartender Chloe doesn’t look happy, but then again, she probably doesn’t know that Jeremy is not Brooke’s boyfriend. “Oh my god, should I go talk to her?”

“You totally should,” Jeremy says. “Because the bartender who took my order said that she has a thing for you, too.”

Rich whoops. Brooke claps both hands over her mouth with a squeak, her eyes huge and hopeful. “Really? Are you sure?”

“Brooke, go up to her and tell her that I’m not your boyfriend, then see how she reacts.”

“Do it! You can do this,” Rich says, gleeful.

Brooke glances at the bartender again before grabbing her G&T and downing most of it with grim determination. She slams her glass down and slaps her hands to her cheeks, heaving out a shaky sigh. “Okay. I’m gonna talk to her. I’m doing this.”

“Good luck!” Rich and Jeremy both cheer, watching her walk towards the bar. They both sip at their beers, staring at Brooke as she reaches the bar counter and says something to Chloe. Jeremy notices that Jenna is openly grinning at the interaction. 

He’s not sure what Brooke says, but he can clearly see Chloe perk up with a smile at Brooke’s words, the two girls both leaning close to each other over the bar counter.

“Oh yeah, she’s definitely getting her number,” Rich says approvingly. He takes a long swig from his beer bottle before setting it down with a wolfish grin. “And I’m gonna go see if that Jake dude is a good dancer.”

Jeremy laughs. “Of course you are. Yeah, you go ahead. I’m gonna wait here for Christine.”

“Text me if you need me,” Rich says, and disappears into the crowd.

Jeremy hums, happy to watch Brooke flirt from afar, checking his phone to see when Christine will be arriving. The music transitions from a song Jeremy doesn’t know to Nicki Minaj’s “Super Bass,” which has him tapping his foot along to the beat. He hums along to the song, reading a new text from Christine promising to be there in five minutes, and then sees Brooke walking back with a million-dollar smile on her face.

“She’s working until the club closes at 3, and I have an early morning appointment so nothing’s happening tonight. But,” she sets a new beer in front of Jeremy and clinks her glass against it with a self-satisfied smile, “we’re getting coffee tomorrow afternoon.”

“Congratulations,” Jeremy says, giving her a quick hug. 

“She’s so beautiful,” Brooke sighs dreamily. 

Jeremy laughs and finishes his first beer so he can get started on the one Brooke brought for him. “So what else did you guys talk about, other than setting up your coffee date?”

Brooke hums thoughtfully. “She lives in Red Hook, and she’s worked here for three months now. She quit from some law firm and she’s taking a break to reassess her life choices. Something like that.”

“Damn,” Jeremy says.

“Meanwhile, I’m just a real estate agent,” Brooke says, mournful.

“I don’t see what’s wrong with that.” Jeremy gulps down some more beer. He can feel the pleasant buzz of alcohol humming in his bloodstream. He sways lightly to the music. “I don’t think Chloe would mind, either.”

Brooke is about to respond when something else catches her gaze. She leans to the side and waves. “Christine!”

“Hey!” Christine half-jogs over, giving Brooke and Jeremy each a hug. “Charity is great but cleanup duties take forever,” she sighs, adjusting her ace pride hairband and stealing a sip of Jeremy’s beer. “Where’s Rich?”

Jeremy gestures at the throng of people on the dance floor. “I think he’s gonna try hook up with Brooke’s crush’s friend.”

“Oh wow,” Brooke says with a giggle.

“Did you get her number this time?” Christine asks.

“Actually,” Brooke begins with a slow smile. 

Christine gasps. “Oh my god, you did? Tell me everything right now!”

They chat like that at the edge of the crowd, with Jeremy buying another round for the three of them as the night goes on. It’s a quarter to midnight when they finally get tired of yelling over the music and decide to go dance. Christine claps her hands in glee when the prelude to Rihanna’s “S&M” starts playing.

“The Saturday night DJ here is so good!” she shouts over the beat, dragging Jeremy and Brooke closer to the front of the dancing crowd. 

As much as Jeremy’s not really a fan of clubbing, he does love _this_ , the pulsing beat of music, the freedom in just dancing in the crowd without having to worry about appearances, the shared energy of a dancing mob, united by a song. He moves his hips to the rhythm of Rihanna’s voice and sings along to the music, laughing as he watches Christine sings at the top of her voice, “ _Sticks and bones may break my bones, but whips and chains excite me_ ,” throwing back her head and enjoying herself. 

Jeremy loses himself to the music, barely bothered by the other sweaty bodies surrounding him, just him and his friends and the beat. He belts out, “‘ _Cause I may be bad but I’m perfectly good at it,_ ” with Christine and Brooke, all three of them dancing in sync. Just as he’s shouting the last lines of the chorus, he looks up at the DJ.

Holy fuck.

The DJ, who’s busy at work onstage and oblivious to Jeremy staring wide-eyed at him from only ten feet away, is insanely attractive. Not the GQ Cover kind of deal like Chloe’s friend Jake, but the kind of handsome that you’d take a second look at on the street. The kind you’d realistically be able to see in your local coffeeshop and salivate over.

He has dark hair that’s gelled back, a few errant curls hanging over one side of his forehead enticingly, begging to be brushed away. He’s wearing dark-rimmed glasses that frame dark eyes that are focused with an intensity that Jeremy would like on himself. Strong jawline, plump lips that are meant to be kissed, and a wicked smile that makes Jeremy’s knees a little weak. He feels his cock valiantly twitch in the tight confines of his jeans when the hottest DJ this side of the continent licks his lips in concentration, that flash of tongue giving Jeremy five-hundred different dirty ideas of what he could do with that tongue, where he wants it. 

“Jeremy? You okay?” Christine shouts over the din, edging closer and tugging on his arm to get his attention. He has to shake his gaze away from the DJ to give her a half-assed reassuring smile, waving off her concern. Rihanna’s voice gives away to a familiar beat, switching between songs so smoothly that Jeremy takes a while to recognize that they’re dancing to a Little Mix number that he’s heard a couple times before. 

He manages to focus on dancing for the next few songs, only stealing fleeting glances at the DJ, who’s rocking to the beat, the loose curls of his hair bouncing over his face. Jeremy would really like to know if that's what the DJ would look like during sex.

_Not now, boner_. Jeremy tears his eyes off of the DJ’s bare forearms and turns sideways so he’s no longer facing DJ Gorgeous. It doesn’t change the fact that ninety percent of his focus is trained in the direction of the DJ’s deck, but at least he’s not openly drooling. He turns his head and catches a familiar streak of red hair out of the corner of his eye. “Rich!”

He waves at Rich until he catches his attention. Rich, sweaty and red-cheeked from exertion, makes his way towards their group, towing Tall Handsome Jake behind him.

“Oh my god, he actually did it,” Brooke laughs. Jeremy’s not even surprised. Rich knows how to be effortlessly likable, and it helps that he’s got a very talented mouth (Jeremy may or may not have drunkenly made out with Rich back in college, just once, and it left quite the impression). Going by how Jake looks utterly charmed, Jeremy’s going to wager the three of them will be having breakfast tomorrow.

“Hey guys, this is Jake,” Rich introduces. “Jake, this is Christine, Brooke, and Jeremy, my roomie.”

“Hi.” Jake has a smile that could probably power an entire small city. “You’re the one Chloe’s been talking about, right?” he asks Brooke. Brooke flushes bright red at Chloe’s name and nods.

“Hey,” Rich says to Jeremy, “I’m taking Jake back to our place right now. You staying here or coming later?”

“Later. Have fun! No sex on the couch,” Jeremy reminds him, pushing him towards Jake. “See you in the morning.”

“Cool. Okay, we’re leaving now.” Rich quickly hugs Brooke and Christine goodbye before taking Jake’s hand, entwining their fingers as they disappear through the crowd together. There’s a small twinge of jealousy in the back of Jeremy’s mind. He hasn’t gotten laid in _months_.

His attention snaps back to Christine jumping up and down with excitement when the music slides into the beginning of Lady Gaga’s “Born This Way.” It’s one of Jeremy’s favorite songs to dance to, and it distracts him from the lazy heat in his blood and DJ Gorgeous on the stage. He pumps one fist in the air, jumping up and down with the crowd as everybody yell-sings, “ _I’m on the right track baby, I was born this way!_ ”

It’s so much fun that he’s almost forgotten about the DJ and his ludicrously attractive face, and he’s breathlessly laughing through the end of the song when he looks back up again and meets the DJ’s eyes.

For a second, Jeremy freezes, caught in the DJ’s dark gaze, a shock of lust crashing back into his system, and he’s just helplessly staring when the DJ fucking _winks_ at him and then goes back to paying attention to his music.

Jeremy’s pretty sure he just died right now. Yep. Bury him right here, please.

A remixed version of “Everybody” by Backstreet Boys is playing now, but Jeremy’s forgotten how to dance. His joints are all wood and plastic, his face is burning, and he’s simultaneously too turned on and too freaked out to remember how to move any of his limbs to the beat. He tries to mouth the lyrics along while Brooke and Christine mock-duet the song. 

As the song ends, the beat goes on a loop as the DJ picks up a mic and addresses the crowd. “Hey there, everybody having fun?”

The crowd cheers in response. Jeremy’s trying to keep his heart from jumping its way out of his throat because that voice, Jeremy wants to have sex with a voice, wow, he has a kink. Everything about this dumb gorgeous DJ is his kink, somebody save him.

“Alright, alright, I have a few more songs for you—”

“Jeremy?” Brooke puts her hand on his arm, looking concerned. “You don’t look so good.”

Christine turns to him at Brooke’s words. “Oh no, are you okay? Are you dehydrated? Is it your blood sugar?”

“I’m fine,” Jeremy says, voice wobbly. It doesn’t seem to reassure them at all. “Just, uh, tired.”

“Let’s go take a break,” Brooke says.

“Want me to come with you?” Christine asks.

Jeremy shakes his head, holding up his hand in an _I’m okay_ motion. Brooke says, “It’s fine, you want to dance, right? I’ll come get you if anything happens. Stay here.”

Brooke takes Jeremy by the arm and drags him out of the crowd, making a beeline towards the bar. She waves a hand to get Chloe’s attention.

“Hey, my friend needs some water, and maybe fresh air?”

Chloe looks at Jeremy with a critical eye, then grabs a plastic cup and pours water into it. “Yeah, he looks like he needs it.” She hands the water to Jeremy, who takes a grateful gulp. “Follow me.”

They follow Chloe around the bar to one of the back doors, which has an Employees Only sign hanging on it, and she ushers them through the doorway and a short corridor that leads to a back entrance. The cool air hits Jeremy in a rush and he shudders in relief. 

“This is where staff take their smoke breaks, so nobody else should be bothering you. If they do, tell them you’re my friends.” Chloe nods at Jeremy. “Lemme know if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” Jeremy says, slumping down against the brick wall, reveling in the breeze of cold air. Brooke thanks Chloe as well, blushing when Chloe steps close and kisses her cheek, and then Chloe’s slipping back inside, leaving them in the dimly lit alleyway. 

“How are you feeling?” Brooke asks, squatting down beside him.

“Sweaty and gross.” This is why he rarely comes out for these kinds of nights. They wring him out into a mess. “I think I was just a bit overwhelmed. I’m good now.”

Brooke pets his shoulder. “You wanna stay out here some more?”

Jeremy tips his head back, thinking it over. He doesn’t want Christine to be alone in there, but he wants to enjoy the fresh air and solitude for a little longer. The solution is pretty obvious. “Yeah, I think I’ll stay here for a bit. You go have fun with Christine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. Besides, you should dance while you can. You gotta go home in a bit, right?”

Brooke checks her phone for the time and swears. “It’s almost 1AM already. Okay, yeah, I’m gonna go in. I’ll tell Christine where you are. Come back in whenever you feel like it, kay?” She kisses his cheek and stands up, brushing off her shorts. “Text me if you need anything.”

“I will, I will. Thanks.” Jeremy waves at her as she pushes the door open and disappears inside. 

Alone out here, with the thumping sound of music muffled through the walls, Jeremy can feel the adrenaline ebbing away and a clammy sensation settling in. His shirt is drenched with perspiration from dancing and the heat of the crowd, and his jeans are clinging to him in a not-so-comfortable way. His hair is damp, some of it falling into his eyes, and he groans, wishing for a nice, soothing shower to rinse away the sticky feeling everywhere.

Dancing and laughing with his friends is fun, but god, the aftermath is always such a hard crash.

He gulps down the rest of the water, then pulls his knees up and settles his head between them, breathing in the crisp air. It’s still early summer, so nights are cool and refreshing. He focuses on inhaling, then exhaling. The repetitive actions clear his head.

Just as he’s feeling much better and contemplating returning inside, he hears the door beside him click open, so he lifts his head.

And finds himself face to face with DJ Holy-Fuck-He’s-Even-Hotter-Up-Close.

The verbal equivalent of a keyboard smash clogs his throat, and he hastily swallows it down, just emitting a tiny squeak of surprise instead. 

“I didn’t think anybody else would be out here,” the DJ says, frozen halfway through the exit with only one foot out in the alley, looking confused. “This is a staff only area, isn’t it?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jeremy croaks. “The bartender—Chloe—let us out here. She’s a friend.”

“Oh, okay, cool.” DJ McGorgeous is fucking closing the door behind him and standing next to Jeremy, holy shit. “You mind if I smoke?”

Jeremy shakes his head, so the DJ pulls out a cigarette and lighter. The way the lighter’s flame illuminates his face just enhances how handsome he looks. Jeremy is so close to either offering a blowjob right here or braining himself against the brick wall.

In an effort to save himself from making a terrible choice that will ensure he can never return to this part of Brooklyn again, he goes for inane small talk instead. “Your music is really good, by the way.”

The DJ startles, blinking down at Jeremy for a good couple seconds before he grins. “Thanks, man.”

“My friend, she loves to dance. She’s been to a lot of places but she said you’re one of the best DJs she’s ever seen.” Jeremy restrains himself from adding _and_ _you’re one of the best-looking men I’ve ever seen in my life, please let me suck you off_. “I think she’s your fan now.”

“Aw, that’s sweet,” the DJ says, a pleased tint of red staining the tips of his ears. He took a slow drag and blew out a long puff of smoke, humming under his breath. “I think I know who you mean. The girl you were dancing with? Small, black hair, with a rainbow painted on one cheek?”

“Yeah, Christine. That’s her.”

“I’ve seen her around a few times. She really does love dancing. Makes my work a lot more worthwhile when you have people enjoying themselves.” He slants a sly small smile towards Jeremy. “You seemed like you were having fun, too.”

“Oh god, I just—I like dancing,” Jeremy says, feeling a hot flush steal up his neck and face. “And you picked a lot of nice songs, so.”

“Really?” The DJ’s teasing tone is giving Jeremy’s dick _so_ many ideas. “And here I thought you’d fled from my terrible playlist choices. You missed out on a Carly Rae mashup I worked super hard on.”

“No way,” Jeremy says. “Shit, I wish I’d heard it.” He fucking loves Carly Rae Jepsen, and he’s not ashamed of it. “I just needed some air,” he explains, waving an arm around in an attempt at interpretive motion to portray what he’s saying. “I get overwhelmed pretty easily.”

The DJ makes an understanding sound, then narrows his eyes as he zeroes in on Jeremy’s arm. “Hang on, is that a Pac-man tattoo?”

Jeremy’s face heats up even more. “Er, yes.”

The DJ drops the rest of his cig on the ground, crushing it underfoot before he steps closer and squats down right next to Jeremy, nearly giving him a fucking heart attack. “Can I see?”

Not trusting his voice to say anything coherent, Jeremy wordlessly offers his right arm to the DJ. From this close, Jeremy can smell him, the scent of smoke and something like—cinnamon?

“Neat,” the DJ says, tracing the dots being eaten by Pac-Man on the inside of Jeremy’s forearm. He shivers at the touch, feeling his dick go half-hard. “I love this kind of stuff. I played old-school games all the way through high school, like a fucking nerd.”

“I like those kinda of stuff too,” Jeremy says mostly on auto-pilot. He can’t think straight (ha, straight. Him? On Pride?). “Favorite game used to be Apocalypse of the Damned. Still kinda is.”

“No fucking way.” Oh fuck, why is that gorgeous face so close to his, how is Jeremy supposed to maintain any sanity like this. “Me too.”

They both stare at each other for a long silent moment.

“Actually,” the DJ says, and he’s inches away from Jeremy’s face, breath brushing against Jeremy’s lips, and this time he can’t stop himself from shuddering hard when those fingertips graze up the inside of his arm. Dark brown eyes drop down to Jeremy’s mouth, then look him in the eye again. “I watched you dance for a while.”

“You did?” Jeremy asks. All his thoughts have gone fuzzy from the proximity of too much gorgeousness, so he can’t stop himself from saying, “I had a hard time dancing because you’re too distracting.”

“Distracting?” He leans in closer, that awful wicked smile just a mere inch away. “I almost missed a song transition because I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.”

“I had to leave the dance floor because you fucking gave me a hard-on,” Jeremy hisses, and DJ Fucking-Gorgeous-And-Maybe-Into-Jeremy barks a laugh at that. “Now are you gonna kiss me or—”

He’s cut off by a hard, insistent mouth pressing against his own, a warm hand running up the inside of his elbow, another hand curling around the back of Jeremy’s neck, dragging him in. Jeremy grabs the DJ by the collar of his teeshirt, trying to pull him closer despite the slightly awkward angle. A warm tongue licks across his lips and he opens them on instinct, moaning into the other’s mouth when the kiss gets deeper, wetter, _filthier_. He’s fully hard in his jeans by the time they separate, panting, Jeremy still clutching the DJ’s shirt and the DJ still keeping a hand on the back of Jeremy’s neck. The DJ leans his forehead against Jeremy’s, licking his lips with a look that clearly says how badly he wants to kiss Jeremy again.

“Fuck, I was gonna be smooth and ask if you wanna hear a private mix from me,” he says, voice low and husky, making all of Jeremy’s insides shudder, “but you’re killing me here, pretty boy.”

“I wanna suck you off,” Jeremy says, brain-to-mouth filter completely gone, earning a groan from the gorgeous DJ. He leans in so that his mouth is brushing against the other’s. “I’ve wanted to blow you since the minute I saw you on that stage.”

“ _Fuck_.” And then they’re kissing again, the DJ biting Jeremy’s lower lip so that Jeremy whines, hips bucking up, trying to turn sideways so he can plaster himself closer. The hand not on Jeremy’s neck has traveled from his arm to his side, running a hot trail down his waist and pausing at the hem of his shirt before going under it, sliding torturously to rest against the bare skin of the small of Jeremy’s back. 

Jeremy’s about to push the DJ back to straddle him and rut against him right here when he’s shoved away.

“Okay, fucking hell, we gotta go somewhere more private and hygienic before I lose my mind,” the DJ says in a shaky voice, holding Jeremy away at arm’s length. He runs a hand through his hair, causing more of it to flop over onto his forehead, and Jeremy tries to lean in and kiss him again. “No, wait,” he says, pushing Jeremy away. “Christ. I live ten minutes away, I can call a cab.” He looks nervous. “If you wanna continue, that is.”

Jeremy doesn’t do one night stands. He’s tried it before and it only ended in awkwardness and shattered egos. He doesn’t have the confidence or mental strength to do what Rich does, smiling and saying goodbye in the morning with no messy feelings leftover. Going to a stranger’s home for sex, with nothing but his dick’s opinion, is a recipe for disaster.

But.

But he hasn’t met anybody so fucking hot in his life who thinks Jeremy’s worth his time, even if for only a night, and he doesn’t seem to mind Jeremy’s geeky tattoo or his gaming preferences. Seems to approve of it, even. And he’s looking at Jeremy like he’s worried that Jeremy will say no, like Jeremy means something.

God, he just wants to have this man for one night. 

_Let me have this_ , he thinks, to whatever higher beings are out there. _Just this one thing, please_.

“Call that cab right now,” Jeremy says, ducking in to peck the side of the DJ’s mouth, because it’s a mouth that was made for kissing. 

“Shit, okay, yes, fuck yeah.” He tugs his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans, unlocking it and dialing the number on his phone, then pauses and scratches the back of his head with a sheepish grin. “Uh, by the way. I’m Michael.” He holds out a hand.

Jeremy blinks and digests that. He shakes the outstretched hand with an incredulous laugh. “I’m Jeremy.” Jesus, he said yes to going to somebody’s home without even knowing their name first. He’s gone crazy.

“Nice to meet ya, Jeremy,” Michael says in a low voice, a lazy smile spreading on his lips as he blatantly eye-fucks Jeremy with a once-over, phone held to his ear. Even as he starts speaking into the phone, he doesn’t take his eyes off of Jeremy.

Jeremy’s seriously considering if he can squeeze that blowjob in before the cab gets here.

“Okay, it’s only five minutes away, thank god.” Michael puts his phone away and stands up, brushing off his knees while Jeremy follows suit. He offers a hand to Jeremy. “We should head to the front entrance.”

“Okay,” Jeremy says, heart pounding as he takes Michael’s hand. Stupid, considering he just had Michael’s tongue in his mouth just a few minutes ago, but reality is starting to sink in. Michael, this gorgeous specimen of a human being, wants to take Jeremy home. Wants to have sex with Jeremy. Fuck, that ten minute ride to Michael’s place seems so far away.

They’re heading back into the club, emerging from the staff entry when Jeremy sees Christine waving at him.

“Jeremy! Brooke’s in the bathroom right now but she’s leaving in a bit, so—” Then she notices Michael, then their joined hands. “—never mind, are you leaving?” 

“Uh, yeah,” Jeremy says, feeling his face go bright red. He makes hasty introductions. “Christine, Michael. Michael, Christine.” They wave at each other. “I’m, uh, going to Michael’s place. You gonna be okay?”

“Pfft, yeah, of course. Don’t worry about me. Text me later so that I know where you are though, okay?” She smiles at Michael. “I love your music, by the way! I’m a total fan!”

“And I’m a fan of your dancing,” Michael says, and his warm smile is doing weird things to Jeremy’s stomach. “I promise to return your friend in one piece.”

Christine laughs, hugging Jeremy and then shooing them both to the door. “Have fun!”

On the way out, Michael picks up a sports bag that’s apparently full of his DJ equipment, and they stumble outside into the fresh air, Michael nodding goodbye to the bouncers while holding Jeremy’s hand. They amble over to the street curb to wait for the cab.

“So you're not playing the full night?” Jeremy asks.

Michael shakes his head. “Nah, not tonight. Usually I take the eleven-to-three shifts for Saturdays, but they got a special guest for the last two hours today for Pride. So I can leave early.” He raises their joined hands and kisses Jeremy’s knuckles with a smile. “Lucky me.”

Jeremy makes a pained noise. “You are _not_ helping me wait until we get to your place.”

Michael laughs. “Patience isn’t your strong suit, huh?”

Jeremy scowls and bumps his shoulder against Michael’s. “Keep teasing me and I’ll just fucking blow you in the cab.”

“I’m supposed to find that a deterrent, _how_?”

“If I blow you in the cab, are you gonna be able to fuck me after that?” Jeremy asks.

Michael chokes just as the cab pulls around the corner. “Holy _shit_.”

They slide into the backseat, Michael giving the driver an address that Jeremy thinks he can vaguely place. “You live in Bed-Stuy?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Middle Village, Queens. It’s not too far away from your place, I guess.” 

Michael hums, running his thumb in small circles over Jeremy’s knuckles. “So what’s a Queens boy doing all the way down here in Brooklyn tonight?” he teases with a sly look.

“Christine was doing a charity thing for Pride,” Jeremy says, leaning against Michael’s shoulder. “And Brooke wanted to go to SQUIP afterwards because she’s had a crush on one of the bartenders for weeks, so she dragged us there.”

“Which bartender?”

“Chloe.”

Michael huffs an amused chuckle. “Ah, so that’s how you got access to the staff only break area. I guess the crush was mutual?”

“Mm, it worked out for both of them,” Jeremy says, turning his head to look at Michael. His hard-on went away during the wait for the cab, but Michael’s thumb tracing patterns on the back of his hand and the hungry look on his face is bringing back the urge to climb onto Michael’s lap and grind down.

“Worked out for us too,” Michael says, the words breathed out against Jeremy’s lips.

Jeremy leans in for a kiss but Michael shakes his head with a grimace. “If I kiss you right now,” he says quietly, so that the driver doesn’t hear them over the hum of radio music, “I won’t be able to stop.”

_Then don’t stop_ , Jeremy doesn’t say. He’s sober enough to know that trying to have sex in a taxi can only lead to tragedy. Instead, he lets out a groan and slumps down, tipping his head sideways onto Michael’s shoulder. “Are we there yet.”

Michael chuckles, squeezing his hand. “Not yet, beautiful.” He presses a kiss to Jeremy’s hair, which makes Jeremy want to kiss him but also want to run away and screech his feelings out into a pillow, because _jesus fucking christ how is this man real_.

They sit there, nuzzling for a bit, until Michael taps Jeremy on the thigh and murmurs, “We’re here.”

Jeremy sits upright, looking out on the street. It’s a nice neighborhood, a little nicer than where Jeremy lives, but overall it’s not too different. Houses lined up in rows, yellow street lamps, a quiet residential area fast asleep in the middle of the night. The cab slows down to a stop and Michael pays the driver while Jeremy gets out of the cab, looking up and down the street. It’s empty save for them.

“C’mon,” Michael says, taking Jeremy’s hand again. It’s nice, getting to hold somebody’s hand like this again.

Michael leads Jeremy to the front door, fishing out his keys on the way, then unlocks the door and pushes it open with an exaggerated _after you_ gesture. Jeremy giggles and steps inside.

A warm hand settles at the small of his back, guiding him as Michael flicks the lights on. The contact makes Jeremy shiver lightly, now that he knows Michael can touch him without reserve. A warmth settles in his belly, the slow lick of anticipation heating his blood. 

“Before we start anything,” Michael says, lowering his bag onto a coffee table and gesturing towards the kitchen area, “you need anything? Water?”

“I’m good,” Jeremy says.

“Okay,” Michael says, slowing to a stop in front of the open door of what looks like his bedroom. He puts a hand under Jeremy’s chin, lifting his face up so that they’re nose to nose. “You still want to do this?”

“Please,” Jeremy breathes, leaning in as he says the word. He meets Michael halfway in a kiss, wrapping his arms around Michael’s neck as Michael starts walking him backwards into the bedroom, one kiss after another, until the backs of Jeremy’s knees are hitting the mattress. He falls back slowly, mostly by clinging onto Michael as Michael lowers him down, sighing in relief when his back is settled on the bed. He tugs on Michael until he gives in and lays down on top of Jeremy, a solid, warm weight pressing him down as they kiss, Jeremy licking into Michael’s mouth and humming happily when Michael sucks on his tongue. He rocks his hips up, grinding against Michael’s thigh as Michael groans, giving Jeremy’s lips one last kiss before he peppers kisses down Jeremy’s jaw to his neck to his collarbone.

“Can I mark you?” Michael asks, and Jeremy nods, too breathless to speak. Then Jeremy’s keening as Michael scrapes his teeth against his collarbone, biting into the soft juncture between shoulder and neck before licking the teethmarks in apology. 

Michael’s mouth is the eighth wonder of the universe. Jeremy takes a moment to appreciate this before he takes hold of Michael’s hair and pulls him back up so Jeremy can kiss him again. 

They kiss and kiss and kiss until Jeremy’s sure his brain is melted, his hips lazily rolling against Michael’s, arousal buzzing through him at a nice leisurely frequency, and he decides that as much as he likes tasting Michael’s mouth, he needs to taste Michael’s dick soon before either of them come in their pants like horny teenagers.

“Move,” he grunts. “I wanna blow you.”

Michael dips down for one last peck before moving off of him. “I’m not saying no to _that_ ,” he says, and Jeremy loves how he can hear the smile in Michael’s voice, how it sounds just as it warm as it looks. 

He stands up so that Michael can strip the covers off, leaving only the bedsheets and two pillows. He strips off his shirt, shoes, and socks while Michael clicks on a bedside lamp. He peels his jeans off, too, while he listens to the sound of Michael hunting for lube and condoms in his drawer. He fiddles with the waistband of his underwear, unsure of whether he should keep it on for now or if he should just strip it off. He turns on the bed to ask Michael if he has a preference.

“There we go,” Michael announces, throwing a couple condom wrappers and a bottle of lube onto the bed as he turns around and sees Jeremy in nothing but his briefs, and he stops for a second, going a little wide-eyed.

Jeremy wants to say something, really, but it’s hard to say anything when Michael is looking at him like he’s the most miraculous thing he’s ever seen.

“Fuck,” Michael blurts, “you’re so beautiful.”

“Have you looked in a mirror before?” Jeremy jokes, but he’s always been a sucker for praise, to the point where one of his exes had used it ruthlessly and wonderfully in bed. He knows he’s blushing, his dick straining against his briefs, heart nearly beating its way out of his ribcage. He feels flayed open, helpless against Michael's warm eyes and gentle voice.

It’s both terrifying and exhilarating.

“I mean it,” Michael says, pausing to strip his shirt off and drop it into the floor. He’s got very nice shoulders, and a soft middle that Jeremy aches to put his mouth on. Michael stands in front of where Jeremy’s sitting on the edge of the bed, caressing Jeremy’s cheek with one hand as he says, quiet and sincere, “I think you’re one of the most beautiful things I’ve seen in my entire life.”

Jeremy shivers, breath shuddering out of him as Michael’s thumb slides across his lower lip. Hopeless in finding a suitable response, he takes the thumb into his mouth and sucks on it, looking up at Michael through his lashes.

“Your mouth, jesus,” Michael says in a tone of worship, and Jeremy’s entire insides go hot and molten at the way Michael’s eyes go dark and hungry.  He wants to be devoured alive by that gaze.

He keeps Michael’s thumb in his mouth, licking around it as a preview as he unbuttons Michael’s pants, shoving them down and helping Michael out of them. The tent in Michael’s boxers is mouth-watering, a present begging to be unwrapped, and Jeremy doesn’t hesitate to release Michael’s thumb and lean forward to mouth against Michael’s clothed cock.

“Fucking, fuck!” Michael doubles over, a hand scrabbling at Jeremy’s shoulder. “Give a guy some warning!”

Jeremy moves away with a shrug. “Impulse. Sorry.”

“Sure you are,” Michael says. He pushes a thumb under his waistband, lowering it just the slightest bit in a casual tease. “How do you want me?”

“On the bed, it’s easier.” Jeremy turns and reaches for a condom while Michael climbs onto the bed, helping himself to a generous grope of Jeremy’s ass on the way. Jeremy squeaks. “Dude!”

“Sorry, sorry. Impulse.” Michael winks at him, settling with his back against the headboard, a pillow behind him. He offers the spare pillow to Jeremy. “Need one?”

“Not now.” Jeremy settles between Michael’s legs with the condom, hooking his fingers into the waistband, watching Michael’s face for any sign of discomfort. So far, he only gets a smile and a nod to go ahead. 

With permission granted, he pulls Michael’s boxers off and throws them in a random direction, and he can’t stop himself from giving a low impressed whistle when he gets to see Michael’s cock, which is average in terms of length but thick enough to put all of Jeremy's exes to shame. Michael makes an embarrassed noise, but doesn’t seem put off by Jeremy’s open appreciation. 

Jeremy tears the wrapper open with his teeth in a move that he's practiced a lot, which makes Michael’s cock twitch, much to his pleasure. He rolls the condom onto Michael, pumping him a few times before lowering his head to give the tip an experimental lick. Michael hisses, a hand rubbing the lower half of his face as he looks down at Jeremy, pupils dilated and breathing uneven. Jeremy smiles at him and presses a chaste kiss to the tip of Michael’s dick, enjoying Michael’s muffled swear words before he finally opens his mouth and takes Michael down in one go.

Jeremy’s mouth isn’t anything all that special. Certainly not as talented as the likes of Michael or Rich, but there’s one thing that he’s good at, and that’s suppressing his gag reflex. 

So he swallows Michael down slow and steady, not stopping until his nose is buried in the dark thatch of curls at the base, listening to Michael babble, “What the fuck, how are you even—oh my god, Jeremy, holy fuck—”

Jeremy swallows around Michael, which earns him a strangled, “oh jesus you’re gonna be the death of me.” Then slowly pulls off until only the tip is in his mouth, taking a moment to breathe before he swallows Michael all the way down again, one hand reaching under to cup Michael’s balls, massaging them as he bobs his head up and down. Michael pets his hair, which is nice. Fingers thread through his curls, and Jeremy hums in response, which causes Michael to curse loudly, hips twisting under Jeremy’s mouth.

“Jeremy. Jeremy, stop.”

He pauses halfway through deep-throating Michael to glance up at him, and Michael looks _wrecked_ , dark hair curling over his forehead, glasses slightly askew, a fine sheen of sweat covering his chest. Jeremy pulls off completely and rests his chin on Michael’s thigh. 

“I don’t mind if you come,” Jeremy says, which is half a lie but mostly true. His voice rasps a bit from the abuse his throat just took. “I’m gonna be good with a handjob.”

“ _I_ mind,” Michael huffs, pulling Jeremy up so they’re in easy kissing distance. “I really wanna fuck you.”

Which, fuck, Jeremy really wants that too. “Sounds good.”

He kisses Michael, soft and slow, before he reluctantly pulls away from that magnificent mouth and sits back to pull his underwear off.

“You’re gorgeous everywhere, aren’t you,” Michael says, kissing his temple, cheekbone, nose. A hand sneaks between his legs to stroke Jeremy once, twice. Jeremy gasps, dropping his forehead onto Michael’s shoulder. “You’re fucking perfect.”

Michael gently bullies Jeremy into crawling forward and straddling him on his knees, Jeremy’s hands on Michael’s shoulders as Michael uncaps the lube and pours a generous amount over his fingers. Jeremy dips down to kiss the crown of Michael’s head as he feels fingers trace up the curve of his ass, delving between the cheeks. He murmurs encouragement when a fingertip traces his hole, teasing him with only the barest bit of pressure.

“Michael,” he whines.

Michael shushes him, dipping in a finger to the first knuckle, and Jeremy rolls his hips in an obvious plea for more. 

Jeremy’s always been a little ashamed about how needy he can get in bed. It doesn’t matter whether he’s topping or bottoming, but he tends to run his mouth when he’s really getting into it, and mostly he just can’t stop begging and whining. It’s embarrassing, once the lust is out of his system, but he’s never succeeded in turning it off, so mostly he tries to cover his mouth, muffle the awful, needy sounds that are ripped out of him as he comes apart.

It’s no surprise that he starts pleading for a second finger pretty much as soon as the first finger’s in, and he’s trying to bite his pleas back but then Michael will lean up to kiss his chin, or stroke a hand over Jeremy’s cock, and he forgets to tamp it down, the words all falling out of him without his brain’s input. Just sheer, raw need overwhelming his senses as Michael pushes in a second finger, telling Jeremy how good he is, look at how well he takes it, isn't he a marvel to look at like this.

Then those fingertips graze over Jeremy’s prostate and he’s collapsing forward against Michael’s chest, legs shaking as he tries to keep his ass up so that Michael can finger him open. 

“You’re doing great,” Michael assures him, pressing a kiss to Jeremy’s shoulder, and Jeremy hates how easily Michael is reading him line by line, learning him inside-out and taking him apart with just his words and fingers. He hates how much he loves it, the way Michael encourages him to be noisy, how Michael rewards him with praise for every little thing, how Michael seems to be happy with having Jeremy just the way he is, just like this.

“I know, I know,” Michael says in response to Jeremy’s garbled begging, pushing in a third finger while Jeremy keens into Michael’s neck. “I’ll fill you up, I promise. Just be patient, babe.”

Jeremy’s never had sex with somebody who calls him so many endearments before. He doesn’t want to have sex without it ever again.

By the time Michael adds a fourth finger, Jeremy’s delirious with need. He feels like his entire nervous system is on fire, every brush of Michael’s skin against his a pleasurable burn, and his cock is dripping pre-come all over Michael’s stomach. His begging is incoherent, just a jumble of whines and moans and, “fuck me, fuck me, please for the love of everything holy just _fuck_ _me_.”

Then Michael’s pulling his fingers out, which makes Jeremy whimper at the sensation of emptiness inside him, and firm hands are settling onto Jeremy’s hips, pulling him right above Michael’s dick. Jeremy looks into Michael’s eyes, which are hungry and warm and so full of _affection_ that it hurts, and Michael whispers, “Ride me, gorgeous.”

Panting, Jeremy obeys, positioning Michael’s cock beneath him and sinking down onto it, moaning obscenely when he finally gets all of Michael’s thick girth inside of him. He feels so full that for a moment he can’t move, one hand clutching Michael’s shoulder with a white-knuckled grip and the other hand blindly closing over one of Michael’s on his hips. Michael nudges forward for a kiss, gripping his hand back, entwining their fingers. “Move when you’re ready,” he says into Jeremy’s mouth.

Jeremy squeezes Michael’s hand, melting into the kiss as he adjusts to the penetration, relaxes into it until his body start demanding more, more, _more_. Slowly, he lifts his hips up, feeling Michael slip out of him bit by bit, and when Michael is perilously close to slipping out entirely, he sits back down, swallowing the groan Michael lets out. He repeats the movement, slow then less slow then faster, kissing Michael’s mouth and nose and even the rim of his glasses. He can’t stop the noises spilling from his mouth, doesn’t really care about them anymore. Here, there’s just Michael inside him and Michael clutching his hip, Michael’s hand holding his, Michael looking at Jeremy with so much adoration that Jeremy has to close his eyes.

“Move,” he pants to Michael between movements, and then the hand on his hip clamps down as Michael’s hips rock up as Jeremy’s grinding down, fucking into Jeremy even harder, and they do it again and again. Harder, faster, and Jeremy’s so close, almost there. “Fuck, Michael, please, touch me, I need you, please—”

And then the hand not holding Jeremy’s is moving to Jeremy’s cock, stroking fast and hard until Jeremy’s coming with a high-pitched whine, splattering come all over Michael’s chest, and Michael’s gasping as Jeremy clenches around him.

“Move, you can move, I’m okay,” Jeremy says, and Michael thrusts back up into him, twice, once more, then he’s shuddering through orgasm, blindly kissing his way up Jeremy’s throat, searching his mouth out, and Jeremy pulls him in with a hand on the back of his head, marveling at the softness of Michael’s hair and the way Michael murmurs praise into Jeremy's mouth, _you're so beautiful, how are you so gorgeous, you're a fucking dream come true_. He swallows those words and makes himself believe them if only for right now, right here. In the quiet of the night, kissing Michael until the urge to cry drains away.

-

When Jeremy wakes up, there’s daylight seeping in through the blinds, a heavy arm thrown over his waist, and a warm body cuddled up behind him. For a long, peaceful moment, Jeremy’s tempted to go back to sleep.

He can hear the dull sound of a phone vibrating, somewhere on the carpeted floor.

It takes him a moment to realize it’s probably his phone, and that he should have texted Christine or Rich or Brooke about his whereabouts. He’d been so out of it after the sex last night that he’d sleepily allowed Michael to wipe him off, then had cuddled up to Michael as soon as Michael has climbed under the blanket he’d just thrown over Jeremy and the bed. Jeremy hasn’t even washed his face or brushed his teeth. Ew.

With great reluctance, he slips out of Michael’s arms, heart clenching when Michael mumbles sadly in his sleep, burrowing under the covers as he gropes for his heat source. Jeremy finds his underwear and pulls it back on. He relocates his socks next, then pulls on his shirt. He fishes his phone out of his jean pockets and walks to the living room to check what he’s missed, carrying his shoes and jeans in the hand not holding his phone.

He winces as his notifications alert him that he missed six calls and has twenty-seven texts waiting for him in his inbox. 

 

> **12:49AM Rich**
> 
> **jake has a car so he’s driving us. IT’S A FUCKING MASERATI?? WTF??**
> 
> **12:50AM Rich**
> 
> **oh man our house is gonna look like shit to him**
> 
> **12:53AM Rich**
> 
> **he's from Upper East Side oh no**
> 
> **12:56AM Rich**
> 
> **he’s getting a phd at columbia what the shit**
> 
> **12:57AM Rich**
> 
> **HE VOLUNTEERS AT AN ANIMAL SHELTER TOO**
> 
> **1:05AM Rich**
> 
> **oh my god he’s singing along to beyonce and killing it jesus take the wheel**
> 
> **1:09AM Rich**
> 
> **he just made a math joke. he’s a nerdddd**
> 
> **1:12AM Rich**
> 
> **akjfskjln this boy is a mets fan I gotta marry him**
> 
> **1:19AM Rich**
> 
> **shit why is he so NICE**
> 
> **1:24AM Rich**
> 
> **he thinks les mis is better than spring awakening??? clearly misguided**
> 
> **1:57AM Rich**
> 
> **we just spent 30 min arguing musical theatre**
> 
> **1:57AM Rich**
> 
> **best 30min ever**
> 
> **2:43AM Christine**
> 
> **Jeremy pls let me know if you’re alive**
> 
> **3:01AM Christine**
> 
> **I’m just going to assume you had a good night. Please don’t be murdered or anything. Text me back as soon as you can**
> 
> **10:38AM Rich**
> 
> **dude where r u???**
> 
> **10:42AM Rich**
> 
> **dud srsly**
> 
> **10:45AM Rich**
> 
> **jeremy heere are u alive?????? where the fuck did u go?????**
> 
> **10:47AM Brooke**
> 
> **Jeremy, why is Rich calling me asking if you’ve been kidnapped?**
> 
> **10:48AM Christine**
> 
> **JEREMY CALL US BACK ASAP**
> 
> **10:56AM Rich**
> 
> **christine says u scored a hot dj!!! congrats bro!!!**
> 
> **10:59AM Rich**
> 
> **kinda funny u got laid last night while nobody else did**
> 
> **11:01AM Rich**
> 
> **….so um Jake and I fell asleep while arguing about jersey boys**
> 
> **11:02AM Rich**
> 
> **no sex. none. just talked and slept on the bed. some good cuddling**
> 
> **11:05AM Rich**
> 
> **I cooked him pancakes and he wants the recipe**
> 
> **11:07AM Rich**
> 
> **he also wants my number**
> 
> **11:08AM Rich**
> 
> **fuck he gives me feelings fuck fuck fuck**
> 
> **11:32AM Rich**
> 
> **ummm I think I have a new boyfriend**

Jeremy snorts at the last message, marveling at the things that have happened overnight. Brooke has gotten herself a date. Rich is in a relationship. Jeremy hooked up with a hot DJ.

The pleasant feeling sours in his gut as he looks back at the bedroom, longing to go back and crawl into bed with Michael. But he doesn’t want to see Michael wake up and look at him like he doesn’t understand why Jeremy’s still here. He doesn’t want to go see Michael’s eyes turn cold or indifferent towards him. 

History repeats itself. Jeremy Heere, getting his feelings mixed into a casual hookup, making a mess just like usual. 

He presses his mouth in a grim line, texting all three friends back that he’s alive and in Bed-Stuy, on his way home. He starts tugging his jeans back on, feeling weary and sad, wondering if he should at least leave a note behind. _Thanks for the sex, you’re gorgeous, I’ll never bother you again? But please call me maybe?_ Jeremy snorts at himself, crushing the idea of ever seeing Michael again. It’s a terrible idea.

He’s toeing his shoes on when he notices a stack of familiar-looking packaging on the coffee table, next to the bagful of DJ equipment. He walks closer to see a stack of games for the PS4. Out of curiosity, he shuffles through them. They’re all different games from the same company: Entrance Studios. Jeremy likes them, so he recognizes all the games except one.

“The Bathroom Paradox?” Jeremy reads, puzzled. “Wasn’t the launch date for this scheduled to be next month?” 

“Yeah, it is.”

Jeremy whips his head up to see Michael, naked save for boxers and glasses, standing in front of his bedroom, a sheepish half-grin on his handsome face. Half of Jeremy’s brain is enjoying the view, while the other half is getting ready to commit suicide. 

“Uh, sorry, I didn’t mean to snoop,” Jeremy says, setting the game down and stepping away from the coffee table, shame starting to creep in.

“No, really, if it’s something super secret, I wouldn’t leave it right here in plain view.” Michael scratches the back of his head, looking embarrassed. “They sent out early copies for everybody involved in the project.”

Jeremy blinks, looking back at the games, then at Michael. “You work for Entrance Studios?”

Michael shrugs, eyes darting towards the floor. “One of the developers, yeah.”

“Holy shit,” Jeremy says. “And DJ-ing is what, a hobby?”

Michael nods, still not looking at Jeremy directly. It hurts a little. “Only Saturday nights. Gotta slave away coding shit during the weekdays, so.”

“How are you so cool?” Jeremy asks, mouth running ahead of his brain. He can’t bring himself to regret it, though. Not when it’s so gratifying to see Michael freeze, eyes darting back to Jeremy’s. 

“You think it’s cool?”

“You're developing software on a full-time schedule and being a kickass DJ on a part-time basis simultaneously. How can anybody  _not_  think that's the coolest shit ever?” Jeremy demands, because there’s something about the uncertainty in Michael’s eyes, the slump of his shoulders, that makes him want to hunt down whoever made Michael think he shouldn't be proud of what he does and hurt them. Makes him want to get on his knees and show Michael how much Jeremy wants to worship him, how the rest of the world is losing out if they don't agree.

Michael shrugs with a half-hearted smile. “You’d be surprised.”

Fuck it. If Jeremy’s not getting out of here with his dignity intact, he can at least give Michael this before he goes. 

He walks to Michael and holds his face with both hands, keeping him in place as Jeremy leans in and says, “Michael, you are amazing. And you’re gorgeous, and nice, and last night was one of the best I’ve ever had.” _Tell me to stay. Tell me you still think I’m beautiful. Tell me and I’m all yours_. Jeremy swallows his pathetic neediness down and pulls Michael in to knock their foreheads together. “You’re the coolest person I’ve ever met, and anybody who doesn’t think so doesn’t deserve you.”

Michael looks at him for a long moment, then closes his eyes with a shaky exhale, both hands coming up to grip Jeremy’s wrists.

“So what about you?” he asks, eyes still closed.

Jeremy’s heart goes into double-time. “What about me?”

“Do you think so? Do you deserve me?” Michael opens his eyes, uncertainty and fear and hope shining in them. “Do you even _want_ to deserve me?”

Jeremy’s heart is going at ninety miles per hour and he knows Michael can tell, can feel Jeremy’s pulse going into overdrive by where his fingers are wrapped around the pulse points in Jeremy’s wrists. He knows that Michael is probably just as scared as he is. So he swallows and says in a small, wavering voice, “I want to, please.”

And Michael leans in, one hand around Jeremy's waist, the other cradling his cheek like he's something precious, kissing him like he thought he’d never get to do this again. Like he missed Jeremy even before Jeremy had left through the front door.

“Shit, I need to brush my teeth,” Michael says as they break apart, and Jeremy laughs, tangling one hand with Michael’s, relief and happiness crashing through him.

“Me too. Gah, I’m so gross right now.”

“I have a spare toothbrush, use it.” Michael kisses his cheek. “Stay and take a shower." Kisses Jeremy's nose. "Stay for lunch.” Presses butterfly kisses on Jeremy's eyelids. "Stay for a while." He looks at Jeremy like Jeremy’s the best thing he’s ever seen. Jeremy can relate; he’s pretty sure that’s the expression he’s wearing right now in regards to Michael, too. “Stay,” Michael whispers.

“Careful, or I just might stay forever.” Jeremy says, smiling against Michael's mouth.

Michael traces the happy curve of Jeremy's lips with his thumb. "Please do."

Jeremy hums and closes his eyes, kissing Michael again. And again.

Michael eventually pulls away, that gorgeous wicked smile on his mouth again. “Okay. Washing up, food, and maybe I can blow you this time.” He winks.

“I’m not saying no to that,” Jeremy says. Then something occurs to him. “Oh hey, can you play me that Carly Rae mashup you talked about?”

Michael swats Jeremy’s ass. “I knew it, you’re just here for Carly Rae and my playlist.” He’s laughing as he ducks down to kiss the side of Jeremy’s neck. “I see your ulterior motives now.”

“No, I’m here for the games,” Jeremy deadpans, and Michael laughs harder, pulling Jeremy's head down to kiss his forehead before spinning him around in the living room, looking incandescently happy. And Jeremy can't help but think that Michael's laughter is the best music he's ever heard.

It's a song his heart could beat along to for the rest of his life.

**Author's Note:**

> writing tumblr: [divineprojectzero](http://divineprojectzero.tumblr.com)  
> main tumblr: [listentotheshityousay](http://listentotheshityousay.tumblr.com)  
> twitter: [@listento_yousay](http://twitter.com/listento_yousay)


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